


Lionhearted & Remarkable.

by Mitooshka



Series: Of Mongrels & Men. [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Romance, also dorian is an excellent teacher, and also a giant nerd, definite fluff at the end, khalil lavellan is an artist, outward displays of emotion, suggested sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitooshka/pseuds/Mitooshka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her courage frightens and amazes me. It makes me hopeful for her. Is that what you call love? Is that what you call hope?” <br/>― Rene Denfeld, 'The Enchanted'.</p>
<p>// Cullen is still surprised at how much his lover can surprise, at how much beauty he can bring to something that wouldn't be deemed so by others. He realizes that there is hidden courage in loving someone, that there are so many ways to say 'I love you'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lionhearted & Remarkable.

  
  
  
            He finds the piece of birch while waiting for his companions to set up camp.   
  
  
            Khalil’s feet were tired; there was a dull ache in his bones from the oncoming rain that was threatening to spill upon them. Still, he had nothing better to do than wander around the surrounding area, trying to find something to bide his time with. He was aware of the pounding in the back of his head, the growing nausea from not eating anything all day and how his back felt completely in knots from his armor.   
  
  
            But finding that little nub of birch wood was enough for him to waste his time with.   
  
  
            Khalil turned it over in his gloved hands, brushing the dirt and underbrush from it and saw that the whiteness of the bark still had stuck on the wood.   
  
  
            “Hey boss, you okay over there? Not taking a piss are you?” Bull’s voice herded him and Khalil got him from where he had been kneeling, pocketing the birch piece with care.  
  
  
            “Some of us don’t need to relieve our bladders every hour, Bull, you seem like a pregnant woman most of the time.” Khalil shot back, walking up the small knoll to where the camp was put together. Cassandra was arguing with an Inquisition soldier on the placement of her tent and Dorian was sitting on the ground, eating some grapes and bread.   
  
  
            “Good a place as any, eh?” Bull nudged Khalil enough to make him stumble. The elf caught himself in time but he glared at the large qunari for a moment.  
  
  
            “I don’t care, as long as it’s dry.” He replied curtly and placed one hand on his hip and stretched his back, looking out over to where the trees crowded densely. He squinted in the dim light, already being obscured by darker clouds and snorted, “Creators this place is huge, I feel like we’ve traveled the length of Thedas.”  
  
  
            “The Hinterlands are known for being large, easy to hide in.” Cassandra broke through his thoughts and walked over, her one hand on her short sword and the other gesturing to the slight outcrop of mountains, “makes it good for warring Templars and mages of course as well, not the best thing.”  
  
  
            Khalil sighed and rubbed his kohl lined eyes, “just as long as we can get out of here.” It wasn’t that Khalil was spoiled, that he couldn’t handle sleeping in the wilderness – he was used to it in fact, but rather he wanted to have his peace and quiet. He wanted to get lost amongst Skyhold, to not be bothered by anyone.   
  
  
            He moved away from Cassandra when she started barking out orders for the foot soldiers to make a fire and bring out the food. The faltering light gave way to a pitch black night and the air turned slightly cool and still. Khalil sat beside Dorian who was trying desperately to read in the lowlight of the fire. The elf brought out the birch piece and turned it over in his hands, smoothing his now-bare fingertips over the bark and knots.   
  
  
            “Really Inquisitor, pocketing nature now?” Dorian mused and when Khalil turned to him, he saw the mage’s eyes glimmer and his mustache twitch in amusement.   
  
  
            “I-…hm, it was nice. I’m deciding to keep it and turn it into something.” The small male says quietly, his eyes now locking with the piece of wood and he unearths a small knife from the bottom of his pack. He starts to whittle away small chunks and he is aware of Dorian’s eyes watching the way his hands work over the wood.  
  
  
            “…I had no idea you had a talent for this sort of thing. Quite interesting if I do say so myself, I know you elves have a knack for it.” The mage said gently, lowering his voice as he watched, “fascinating. I’ve always been good with my hands, but not quite like this of course.”  
  
  
            “It’s not a talent or a ‘knack’ or whatever; it’s just something I used to do when I waited for prey back in my clan. Find a piece of wood and make it into something, haven’t done it in a while however…’probably a bit rusty.” Khalil’s thumb feels the indents and the fire casts an orange tinge to the starkness of the bark.  
  
  
            “You sell yourself short my friend, perhaps gain some confidence in your abilities. Here, since you are engrossed in that and I enjoy reading aloud I do so? I know it would help with your reading.” Dorian urged and the elf looked at him and Dorian still sometimes had trouble holding his gaze. It wasn’t that it was an unfriendly gaze, no, it was simply a dark one and his eyes were brutally black to match the surroundings. The vallaslin on his face caused his expressions to morph into something more intense; Dorian was not attracted to him in such a romantic sense but he was fascinating to see. If he could draw, he would do so.  
  
            Finally Khalil nodded slowly, turning back to his work and murmuring, “I would like that Pavus, do so.”  
  
  
            It was short, simple and almost a snap but the harshness of Khalil’s voice was like the smoke after a fire had been put out; still hissing and crackling but not so dangerous, not so scorching.   
  
  
            Cassandra wandered off to sleep as the night wore on and Bull became a snoring heap in his tent. Dorian called it a night once he felt the first raindrops hit the pages of his book and ushered Khalil inside.   
  
  
            The elf sat in his tent and strengthened the light of the anchor and whittled away by the greenness of the light. He watched as the birch bark became something more alive and willing, something terrifying and beautiful. Khalil, from the broken ashes of his hands, created something whole.  
  


* * *

  
  
            Cullen sat in his office, the pages in front of him already starting to muddle his mind and it was only the early morning. He had to lean back for the fifth time in a short span and look at the door in anxiety.   
  
  
            He had been worried all evening, well into the night and then the dawn’s rays mussed his mind and caused him to remember that there was still work to be done. Yet, he sat in his office and no matter what he couldn’t keep his mind off the Inquisitor’s party, which had returned late at night. Josephine and Lelianna had handled the welcoming while Cullen holed up in his loft, burying his face in the pillow that had stopped smelling like _him._  
  
  
            But it was morning now and he expected the Inquisitor to come barrelling through the doorway in that special tendency he had, often kicking out any poor messenger.   
  
  
            Cullen tapped his quill on the desk and sighed, rubbing at his eyes and wishing that maybe he had tried to get a bit more sleep than he had gotten. He was sure the circles under his eyes had circles and knew that Khalil would narrow his eyes and smack him gently on the face, trying to use a commanding voice to order him to get more sleep.   
  
  
            “Commander.”   
  
  
            Startled, Cullen’s head snapped up and nearly collided with Khalil’s nose, his heart hammered in his chest, “In-Inquisitor!”  
  
  
            “Did I catch you doing something you shouldn’t be doing? Something naughty?” Khalil asked, moving out of the way to prevent any further surprise injuries.  
  
  
            “W-What- no! Of course not, I just didn’t hear you come in.”   
  
  
            “Of course you didn’t.” Khalil blinked a few times and looked down at his boots. Cullen knew he did it often; either he entered with a flurry of words and wild gestures and angry hisses or he was quiet and meek as a mouse, often dropping down from the roof when he could. It scared the living soul out of the commander but he supposed it was the elf’s way of keeping him on his toes (and possibly getting gray hair).   
  
  
            Cullen noticed the bruise on his cheek and stood up, leaning forward to touch the elf’s face with a gloved hand, “I take it the Hinterlands went…interestingly?”  
  
  
            “We ran into a group of Avaar tribesman, Bull by accident got careless and swung his elbow into my face.” Khalil touched his cheek and his mouth twitched into a quick smile. Cullen was surprised the qunari hadn’t taken off his head from the sheer power. “It went well enough however, we managed to secure Wolf’s Hollow.”  
  
  
            Cullen nodded, his eyes not leaving Khalil’s face and he had to clear his throat to bring himself back, “ah yes, right well I’m glad. Are you tired? If you would like you may go lay down.” There was a part of Cullen that screamed at Khalil to go lay down, only so that his bed would be warmed and the elf’s scent would be embedded in his pillows and sheets once more. It was a comfort he sought and found when he couldn’t find rest, when the tremors and shakes of withdrawal and nightmares became too much. And simply when the Inquisitor himself, could not be there to stifle the whimpers.   
  
  
            “I am tired but I wanted to give you something- it’s not anything…expensive or impressive but…” Khalil bit at his lower lip and he clenched one fist, in the other Cullen hadn’t noticed but he held a small parcel wrapped in twine and paper. Khalil slowly placed the parcel on his desk and stepped back a few feet, unsure of himself. There was always such a tense feeling to Khalil in these moments, where he let his guard down and showed that he wasn’t the mongrel that heartless people pegged him as. He was far more alive than most.   
  
  
            The commander picked up the parcel and noticed how meticulously it had been wrapped; with due care and diligence. He turned it over in his hands and tugged on one of the knots, letting it unravel in his hand and Cullen’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  
  
  
            In the midst of the paper was a small totem, about the size of an amulet but it looked almost to be much more delicate. It was smooth, polished and carved into the image of a lion’s face; snarling and teeth gaping with malice and the detail that was put into it was staggering. Cullen looked closer and noticed that the mane had small slivers of birch bark put in to make it look more realistic and his mouth opened and then closed. “This is-“  
  
  
            “I said it wasn’t anything special alright? It was just…it was just something that I thought I should do.” Khalil forced out from between clenched teeth. “You gave me that…coin and I figured I should repay you.”  
  
  
            “Khalil it was a gift, you didn’t have to repay me but…this is…magnificent, the detail is remarkable, how did you manage to do this- was magecraft involved?” Cullen offered a shy smile to the elf who returned it a faint blush on his sun kissed cheeks, the slightly freckles he had over his nose were a little more pronounced now.   
  
  
            “You think everything has magic in it but no…just a knife and boredom. You can wear it around your neck…to uh, keep you safe.” The dark haired elf awkwardly rubbed at the shaved side of his head and kept his eyes from meeting Cullen’s.   
  
  
            Cullen indeed noticed the thick leather cord attached to it and turned the totem over, noticing a small red mark on the back, “what is this?”  
  
  
            “In my- in my clan, sometimes when you made totems for others, you would cut yourself a little bit and put it on the totem. It was…it means that I give my blood, my strength to you in times of weakness. It was just a silly…thing we did to help each other out, to show we uh, appreciated one another.” His words came out like a tumbling storm and Cullen was surprised since he hadn’t heard Khalil speak that much at one time. And even more so he was touched by the level of care that was put into the token.   
  
  
            Cullen put the totem down and slowly unbuckled his breast plate, got rid of the furred cloak and shed his greaves. He went down to his tunic and his breeches and picked the totem up, slipping it over his head and running his thumb over the pronounced maw of the lion. He looked down at it for a moment and tucked it into his shirt, pressing the wood into the left side of his chest so hard he was sure it left an indent.   
  
  
            Khalil kept his eyes trained downwards, shifting one foot awkwardly and drawing patterns in the dust on Cullen’s office floor. He didn’t notice when the commander rounded the desk and was only aware of his presence when he felt hands on either side of his face tilt him up.   
  
  
            Cullen’s eyes were a heavily saturated gold, like staring into the bright rays of a sunset, like watching goldenrod bloom. Khalil’s own eyes were as black as coal, as the sky during a clear night, like the obsidian that held itself in caves.   
  
  
            “You never cease to amaze me.” Cullen murmured, a thumb coming to run over Khalil’s cheekbone.  
  
  
            “With what?”  
  
  
            “How absolutely remarkable you are.” And Cullen’s lips met his in a sweet, soft gesture of affection. The tough elf who wielded his words more than his daggers sometimes, melted in his arms and clutched at his shoulders to keep himself upright. Cullen’s fingers tangled in his hair and he was aware of the commander slowly moving forwards, his kisses becoming feverish.   
  
  
            “I believe we have to celebrate you coming back.” Cullen rasped, his voice breathless and Khalil smirked slightly against his lips, his tongue coming out to run gently against the scar.  
  
  
            “But commander you have so much work to do.”  
  
  
            “Well would you look at that, looks like your gift is already having an effect on me.” And Cullen’s mouth traveled to his ear, “let me return the favour.”

**Author's Note:**

> Since my last fanfiction with these two got some really great responses, I've decided to share another one! I really, REALLY love my Inquisitor and Cullen and it's so amazing that I can find different ways to express how much Cullen means to Khalil. He isn't an open person but...you know, there is more than one way to say 'I Love You'.


End file.
